Taylor sat for a long moment with her eyes shut tight, willing him to return, willing the feel of his fingers from her skin. But neither came true. When she opened her eyes, the room was empty. Her gaze was drawn to the lone shadow on the wall, surrounded by the swirling, dancing light from the fire. She watched the light surround her and a shiver shot through her body. With a sigh, she stood and headed back to her own room.
As soon as she stepped through the door, she unsheathed her sword and laid it on the bed. She paced for a moment, unnerved by the feelings that Slane unleashed in her. Then her gaze was drawn back to her sword.
The full moon shone up at her, the bright orb reflected in the polished silver of the blade. She knew she should pick it up. She knew she should practice and prepare for the battle with Slane. But part of her didn’t want to. Part of her wanted him to defeat her.
No. She couldn’t surrender to him. She knew she had to fight him with everything she had. Just as Jared had taught her.
She reached out and grasped the sword’s handle, staring down at the clear reflection in the polished blade. Her eyes were ringed with sadness; there were lines of misery about her mouth. She had never looked so lonely and lost in her life.
This face, this image, staring back at her was not her. She was stronger than that weak thing with the tragic eyes. Taylor’s hand tightened around the pommel. She knew what she had to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Are you certain you’re all right?” Slane panted, glancing at her wounded side.
A large orange moon gazed down at the clearing, showering Slane and Taylor with golden light as their swords clanged in the night.
“If you’re afraid to fight me, you can surrender now,” Taylor retorted.
Slane felt a smile ease across his face and he couldn’t wipe it away. A sense of pride filled him as he watched Taylor handle her blade. She obviously had put the last week to good use.
She feinted left and then swung right with amazing speed. He blocked the blow, but had to move quickly to do so. She really was very good. Much better than he had expected. Only a trained eye could see how she favored her left side. She was not as strong as he was, but she was quicker. Like a sleek little cat. Her green eyes even seemed to glow in the night.
In the midst of battle, her face flushed with a radiant glow. There seemed to be such life coming from her, as if she thrived on the conflict. Then he realized suddenly that most of her life had been a battle.
Taylor arced her blade over her head, and when Slane moved to block it she brought her weapon down and in. Cursing, Slane had to spin out of the way to avoid the move. Damn, but she was fast! She continued after him, raining down blow upon blow.
Breathing hard, she paused, circling slowly to her left. Suddenly, she lunged to the right. But when Slane moved to block her blow, she pulled back. A soft rich laughter bubbled from deep in her throat, mesmerizing Slane.
“You’re taking this rather seriously, aren’t you?” Taylor wondered.
“I believe what I’m fighting for is important,” Slane responded, pushing aside the warm feeling her chortle had sparked in him to concentrate on their fight.
“You should really learn how to relax,” Taylor advised.
“And you should learn not to –” Slane drove his sword toward Taylor in a tight arc– “talk so much when you’re fighting.”
Taylor met his blow with the ease of a trained fighter. She stepped in close to him, casting him her most beguiling smile. “But that’s how I win my fights,” she murmured in a husky voice.
Slane pushed his blade forward against hers, moving his body toward her. “Not all,” Slane growled, his voice barely above a whisper. He pushed harder and she was forced to retreat a step.
But then she halted, pushing against his blade and lifted those damned full lips toward his. “Do you love Elizabeth?”
Startled, he almost stumbled back, but righted himself instantly. “We are to be wed,” he replied. “Does it matter whether I love her or not?” Her parted lips drew his gaze. Her mouth looked so soft, a velvet pillow to rest his own weary lips against. “Honor and duty are not as fickle and fleeting as love,” he managed to add.
“There’s no such thing as love,” she spat with sudden bitterness. “I was just wondering if you were foolish enough to believe in it.” She shoved him off. Her blade glistened in the moonlight as she pulled it back, then swung forward, the sword slicing toward his head.
Slane raised his sword, gripping the handle tightly, and took the brunt of the strike, grunting as the surprising power behind her blow sent a jolt through the muscles in his arm. He redirected her swing to the side, forcing her blade down toward the ground, pinning the tip of it against the earth. The sweet smell of her breath fanned his face as she glared up at him. He pushed her blade away and took a step back.
Taylor straightened up. “She’ll make you a fine wife,” she said. Her face was a mask of composure, but her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths.
Slane watched with a growing burning in his loins as her breasts strained against the fabric of her tunic with each glorious breath. It would be so easy to slide his blade through the cloth and shred the last remaining barrier between his hungry gaze and her tender flesh. Slane snarled, pulling his gaze away. The thought enraged him because it had come so easily. So damned easily. He swung his blade hard toward her, the air itself screaming as the silver metal cut violently through it.
She lifted her blade to block the blow, but as Slane’s sword connected with hers, Taylor fell beneath the brutal weight of it. She landed on her bottom with a cry.
Slane’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t meant to hurt her! “I’m sorry, Taylor,” he said quickly and reached out a hand to her.
She pivoted on the ball of her foot, lashing out with her opposite leg. It smacked into his knees, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. He tumbled to his back. Taylor lurched forward, placing the tip of her blade to his neck.
Slane frowned at the triumph he saw in her green eyes, the sparkle of amusement that glittered there. “That was dishonorable,” he observed.
“I like to win,” she said, a grin stretching across her lips. “Yield to me,” she urged.
A muscle tightened in his jaw and his eyes narrowed. She pressed the tip of the sword into his skin. His lips thinned as he muttered, “I yield.”
***
Slane stood in the darkness of the common room, watching Taylor eat. At least her appetite had returned, and then some. She ate ravenously, as if it were the last meal she would see for a while. Her long dark hair shimmered in the flickering light of the hearth, thick waves of black falling over her back as she bent over her porridge.
She had beaten him! he thought for the thousandth time. And she’d wasted no time in accepting her triumph; he had already glimpsed the packed bag on her bed when he went to find her for dinner. She was ready to leave. He clenched his teeth and turned away from her. It shouldn’t bother him. She had beaten him dishonorably! She had tricked him. But it did bother him. Immensely. Not because he had lost to her. He even begrudgingly admired her ingenuity beneath his anger. But because he had lost her.
He had promised he would say nothing when she left. That was the wager. But he had not counted on losing! Even left-handed, he was a match for the best swordsmen. He had had no doubt in his mind that he would defeat her.
But she had continued to taunt him with her body and the fiery looks from those bewitching eyes! She had distracted him with her infernal chatter! It was no wonder he had lost!
No fight with her could ever be fair. She would always have him at a disadvantage with her soft curves, the siren song of her voice, the eternal emerald depths of her eyes.
Slane threw back his head and took a long drink of ale. He stared at the reflection of his face in the shiny surface of the liquid. His eyes looked haunted, possessed by the image of a woman he could not have. And should not want! He looked up at the cause of his anguish
.
Taylor opened her mouth to take a bite of bread. As he studied her lips, the fullness of them, the cherry sweet redness of them, her innocent look seemed to turn wanton. And then blatantly seductive. Even though he was standing in the back of the room, her mouth filled his vision as if she were sitting but mere inches from him. His gaze traveled up to her cheekbones, marveling at the delicate roundness of them, the hint of color that gave them such vibrant life.
Then she turned to stare right at him. Her eyes drew his gaze on, forcing them upward, locking them into a tight stare. For a long moment, he lost all sense of who he was, where he was. Her emerald gems shimmered, priceless jewels buried in the treasure of her face.
Suddenly, he was on his feet, stalking toward her. He would end this charade. How could she think of leaving his protection? How could she think she would survive one day out there alone with Corydon’s men and Richard’s mercenaries looking for her, especially after what had happened last time?
As he drew near, his shadow fell over her like a dark storm cloud. He towered over her for a long moment, staring at her inquisitive eyes with fierce anger burning through his body. He opened his mouth to order her to stay by him, to stay at his side... but stopped cold. He had lost. He had given his word that he would let her go.
Taylor kicked out the chair her foot had been resting on and Slane fell silently onto it.
He could do nothing but stare at her. At the way her hair tumbled about her shoulders in clouds of curls, the way her deep green eyes seemed to see into his soul, reading and understanding. Then her lids fell over her eyes as she looked down at her mug of ale.
“It would be safer for you to stay,” Slane finally said quietly.
A grin tugged at her lips. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
“I’m not trying to stop you,” he insisted. “I just think you should consider your options.”
She lifted her luminescent eyes to him. “I have.”
“Hmm,” Slane mused. “You’d rather take your chances with a dozen trained fighters looking to kill you or who knows how many mercenaries looking to kidnap you. Kill. Kidnap. Kill. Kidnap. Maybe even both.” He looked at Taylor. “You’re right. An easy decision to make.”
An amused smile twitched the corners of her lips. “I’m going to miss your humor, Slane.” She lifted the mug to her lips, taking a long drink; then she slowly set it down again on the table. But this time, she did not look at him; she turned to stare at the back wall.
A sudden agony swelled in his chest. “You don’t have to go.” His hand reached out to wipe her hair from her face. Her locks parted, like the softest curtain in the world, as he moved her hair aside to see the flawless skin it hid. “Taylor.” His voice sounded thick to his own ears. She didn’t look at him and he suddenly needed to see her eyes. He needed to gaze at them one more time.
She rose quickly and moved for the door. Then Slane was out of his chair just as quickly, calling desperately, “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“You won’t,” she whispered.
Slane caught her arm, but she wouldn’t turn. She wouldn’t lift her eyes to his. Slane reached around her and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. Taylor kept her head bowed before him, her black mane tumbling riotously about her head. He cupped her chin and forced her head up until her eyes met his.
The pain he saw there tore at his soul. It was a different kind of hurt, not like the kind he had seen when she was physically wounded, but like the kind he felt in his own heart. He crushed her to him, wanting to take the pain from those eyes so he could remember her as the vibrant, glowing woman she was. He brushed his cheek against hers, disheartened as the lavender smell of her floated to him. He tried to memorize the feel of her against him, the soft curves of her back, the feel of her hair against the back of his hands, the way her cheek lay against his shoulder.
She pulled away slightly and turned her gaze to his. Her lips were close to his; her breath fanned his face. He had never pleaded for anything in his life. Until now... “Taylor, please...” he begged.
Taylor tried to take a step back as she shook her head, but his fingers tightened convulsively around her arms, refusing to relinquish their hold. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden fear filled Slane. He didn’t want to hear her stubborn words; he didn’t want to hear her reasons for leaving.
Desperate, he pressed his lips to hers to silence the words. The touch of her wet lips sent a surge of longing shooting through his body. The innocence of her kiss tugged at his conscience, begging him to release her before it was too late. But wasn’t it already too late?
He parted her lips with his tongue and drove deep into the recess of her mouth, plundering the sweet inner sanctity with a need that he had never known before. He tasted her, trying to get enough of her to last him a lifetime. Her tongue swept his, meeting, battling. He held her along the length of his body, afraid that if he let go she would flee. Longing lashed his soul. He wanted her as he had never wanted anything before in his life. If she would but say the word, he would go away with her, forsaking all else.
At that realization, his body stiffened and he broke away. What was he doing? But as he looked into the depth of those sea green eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing. He was saying good-bye to a woman he admired, a woman whose courage surpassed even his own.
She studied his face for a long moment, those bewitching eyes taking in every taut line, every clenched muscle, until he was sure she could see the battle waging in his soul.
He couldn’t turn his eyes away from her, even knowing what she was doing to him. Even knowing how she was tearing him apart.
Finally, she stepped back. And without saying a word, she turned and continued up the stairs. He watched her every move like a hungry wolf. She didn’t once look over her shoulder.
Slane wanted to throw his head back and scream and scream.
She would be gone by morning. When he awoke, his life would be back to normal, as if she had never entered it. But somehow, he knew it would never be the same again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was time to leave, Taylor knew. Time to leave Slane. As it had been a moment ago, a half hour ago, hours ago. But the feel of Slane’s hard body pressed so intimately against her own, the feel of his lips against hers, made her long to feel more of his caresses. How could she go when every one of her senses was telling her to stay? How could she stay when her mind was telling her to run and never look back? She stopped pacing and sat heavily on the bed beside her packed bag. “Damn,” she muttered, her feelings swirling inside her. Her brain felt ready to explode. She dropped her head into her hands, grimacing at her indecision. She had never been this confused before.
She rubbed her temples and bemusedly shook her head. What would Jared think of her now? she wondered. At the thought, her back straightened and drew her up.
She slowly dropped her hands from her face. Jared. I’ve come this far to avenge my friend’s death, she thought. And now I’m running away into the night like a frightened child. How can I abandon him like that ? How can I allow his death to go unpunished?
Then why have I wanted to leave so badly ? Her gaze shifted to the open window. The moon struggled to give light to the world below it, but a haze of clouds blocked its feeble efforts, leaving the night dark. The haunting image of Slane pressing his moist lips to Elizabeth’s cheek speared Taylor’s mind. The pain she felt in her chest was as immediate as it had been the day that she had witnessed the scene. She slowly dropped her gaze to the dark floor. She didn’t want to be hurt. She should put as much distance between her and Slane as she could, forgetting everything: the possibility of a paying job, free food and board, avenging Jared.
She knew now that a simple heated glance from Slane’s blue eyes or a seductive grin from his lips could make her forget everything. That was why she had not left yet. She was afraid Slane would be waiting in the common room for her. Waiting with his worried blue eyes.
Waiting with his strong arms. Waiting with his dangerous lips. She was sure if he kissed her as he had before, she would never leave his side. And deep down inside, she knew she didn’t want to leave Slane. She wanted to stay with him. Maybe, just maybe, he would forsake Elizabeth and take her in his arms again...
But she knew he would never break his vow. His honor. His oath. She was afraid now that her longing for Slane was clouding her judgment, giving her too much of a reason to stay. After all, couldn’t she avenge Jared’s death on her own? Did she need to accompany Slane to Castle Donovan? Of course, it would be easier to have Slane pay for her meals. And she could seek his brother’s help against Corydon. And what of her father? He would be at Castle Donovan waiting for her. Could she see him again, after all these years, just to be with Slane a while longer? She slouched her shoulders, her long black hair cascading over her face onto her lap. She didn’t care about seeing her father. All she cared about was Slane. She didn’t want to leave him.
Then what is the problem? she wondered. Don’t go. You’ve never given a rat’s ass about anyone else. Why start now? If you want to stay, to hell with Slane’s reputation, to hell with his honor. Stay. Do what you want, just as you’ve done for the last eight years.
But that was the problem. The wanting. She didn’t know what she wanted from Slane. And she didn’t know if, when she figured it out, he would be able to give it to her. But she knew she had to find out. She had to know what it was about him that made her feel so... so much like a woman.
She rose to her feet and moved with determination to the door, throwing it wide. She was avenging Jared’s death, after all.
Taylor stalked down the empty hallway, hurrying before she lost her nerve. Slane was paying for her food and board, after all.
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